Large Fierce Mammal

Today we’ll celebrate the True Arte of the Sabre in all its lethal beauty. Rarely seen here in North America, this connects with what I talked about in my 16 May 2011 article, To the Point. I assert that society suffered a major setback when it cast aside swordsmanship as one of the essential foundations of sound character. Many will watch the action that follows and see only an archaic dance of death, but we who play live steel understand the quality of character that grows from such harmony of mind, body, and spirit. Just to take a stand with sabre in hand requires the defeat of many adversaries, none of which is the one who stands facing you, and that vital combination of sang-froid, self-confidence, grasp of reality, and intolerance for bullshit will stand the swordsman on firm ground in all areas of life.

The Swordmaster’s Grimoire, a wonderful blog written by Adam Crown, M.d’A. and Linda Wyatt, summed this up beautifully in an address to new fencing students at Cornell University:

You’ve all made it to Cornell – and a couple of you have made it through or almost through Cornell. I would therefore conclude that somewhere along the way, you’ve learned how to bullshit.
Maybe you convinced a teacher that the dog really did eat your homework.
Maybe you professed a hardship to get an extension on a deadline.
Maybe you convinced a teacher that he/she was your best teacher EVER, or that his/her subject was the most interesting.
Maybe you’ve passed exams without studying by playing the elimination game with multiple choice questions.
Maybe you filled papers with weasel words or just wrote what you knew your teacher wanted to hear, rather than what you actually thought. You dropped a few names, hit all the required buzzwords, threw in some choice quotes, whether you understood them or not. You included in the bibliography books you’d never actually read.
Maybe you faked whole classes by just skimming the textbook or reading someone else’s notes.
Maybe you learned how to kick that extra point by being “liked.”
Maybe you cut class to spend time with a lover and conned your teacher into believing you had to take care of a sick granny.
If you yourself didn’t do any of these things, you most certainly saw someone who did.
What you learned by it is that rules aren’t really rules, they’re just “guidelines” or suggestions. They’re only rules for SOME people. Not for the cute or the clever.
You learned that most rules you can bend way out of shape with little in the way of repercussions, and some you can break and get away with it. Some of that is because the rules are stupid and ought to be broken.
But some of it is because nobody says what they mean, means what they say or does what they say they’re going to do.
In short, you’ve learned that a substantial amount of the world is bullshit and if you excel at bullshit management yourself, you’ll do just fine.

But not here.
Not in the salle d’armes.
Not when you cross blades.
Maybe you can play that scene from “The Princess Bride,” to a T, reciting a litany of The Great Masters by heart: Marrozo, Viggiani, Agrippa, Capo Ferro and so on from Day One to Just Now. Maybe you can quote all their theories and ideas. Maybe you’ve even learned the appropriate Italian (or French) term for This ‘n’ That, assuming an accent reminiscent of Inspector Clouseau.
But when you take sword in hand, none of that academic puffery matters.
Not one bit.
You won’t be chatting.
Your opponent won’t be giving you a multiple-choice quiz.
But can you stand on guard, maintain your balance, line focus and distance?
Can you extend your sword arm swiftly, accurately and at the right moment?
Can you lunge – and can you recover in good order after you do?
And, above all, can you parry, small, tight and at the last possible instant?

When you cross blades with someone it will be obvious who you are, what you’re made of, and how well and how hard you’ve trained.
And you If you can do the thing, that will be clear, if you can’t do the thing, that will be clear, too and all the Kings horses and all the kings lawyers with all their impressive bullshit won’t be able to save you.

The real beauty of the fencing is that there’s just absolutely no room for bullshit.
It’s honest.
One of the most honest things you can do.
For many people, the most honest thing they will ever do.

And, of course, there’s no crying, either.

Now see what I mean and think on it as you go through the day, and every other day you have left.